


Queen of Hearts

by joyyjpg



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Domme Lisa, Established Relationship, F/M, Femdom, M/M, Masturbation, Polyamory, Sub Castiel, Sub Dean, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-24 21:07:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joyyjpg/pseuds/joyyjpg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas and Dean are warriors, tough and brutal when they need to be, but at home, when they’re all together like this, they’re both putty in Lisa’s hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Queen of Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ilfirin_estel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilfirin_estel/gifts).



> a super special thank you to [Bexy](http://theyreabsolute.tumblr.com/) for ensuring that this baby is suitable for public consumption, correcting my ridiculous typos, and especially for adding to the last line. <333

Tonight, they draw cards.

It’s a game of theirs, one of Lisa’s favorites. In the nightstand there’s a deck of cards – not the well-worn blue ones they use on poker nights with Sam, but a red deck they only use for special occasions.

They each draw one card from the deck and the person with the highest card gets to watch. Originally, when they were making the rules, the person with the lowest card was the voyeur, but that didn’t quite fit. There’s a certain negative connotation with calling out the person with the lowest card, the idea that they’ve somehow lost or are getting left out of the fun happening on the bed (or the floor) (or, if Ben’s staying with a friend, the couch, the stairs, the kitchen counter…) when that isn’t the case at all. But they aren’t really the winner, either, since that would imply that the other two are losers and there are no losers in this game – everyone wins and no one goes to bed unhappy.

One person simply gets a front row seat and a show put on just for them, and tonight that person is Lisa. Her highly appropriate queen of hearts trumps Dean’s six of clubs and Castiel’s ten of diamonds and, if the smiles they’re sporting are any indication, they’re just as pleased with that as she is. Now she just has to decide what to do with them.

The voyeur in this game _is_ in a unique position: they can be the director of their private show, telling their partners what they want to see, or they can simply sit back and watch. The last time they played, Dean pulled the ace of spades and told Lisa and Cas to “surprise” him.

But Lisa will always, without fail, choose the first option, and the boys know it. They’re sitting on the edge of the bed, patient, half-hard from anticipation, waiting for her to give the word. Lisa pulls up her armchair but she doesn’t sit down yet. She wants to tease a little. Not _too_ much, since they don’t have all night – there’s work and school in the morning, so the humans in the room need their sleep and they all need some rest – but just enough to make them antsy.

She paces a little in front of them, lets the already loose knot of her robe come completely untied and opens it enough to get their attention. She drags the smooth fabric across either side of her stomach, delighting in the way their eyes follow each inch of newly-exposed skin. Cas’ eyes wander from her throat to her breasts and down to her belly, while Dean’s freeze on the purple lace panties she’s wearing. He looks up at her and she smiles, knowing exactly what’s going through his mind, but shakes her head. There will be plenty of time for that another night.

She kisses each of them, slow and sweet, a small reward for being patient and keeping their hands to themselves. She doesn’t pull away just yet, lets her hands linger here and there, on Dean’s lips, in Castiel’s hair.

“What are you two going to do for me tonight?”

Dean sucks the tip of her thumb into his mouth, the barest hint of teeth pressing into the flesh. “Anything you want.”

Lisa doesn’t even bother to fight her grin. She loves this. She loves that she can get them to do so much for her – and to her, and to each other, to themselves; she loves how they’re so eager to please and she loves how much _they_ love this. 

In the time they’ve been together, she’s seen both of them at their worst. She’s seen them battle-ready and bloody from the fight, and she’s seen what they both can do, what they’ve had to do sometimes. Cas and Dean are warriors, tough and brutal when they need to be, but at home, when they’re all together like this, they’re both putty in Lisa’s hands.

She pulls away from Dean and turns her attention to Cas, his back straight and blue eyes dark, following each move she makes. “What do you think, Cas?” Her thumb, wet with Dean’s spit, glides across Cas’ plump bottom lip as she cups his jaw, tips his head back a little. “Do you want to fuck Dean?”

Cas blinks up at her. “Is that a trick question?”

And Dean says their angel doesn’t have a sense of humor. Lisa smiles. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes,” Cas answers. Lisa raises an eyebrow and waits; it only takes him a beat to realize what she’s waiting for, and he corrects himself with a wicked twitch of his lips. “Yes, ma’am.” 

_God_ , she loves that. It started as a half-joke, something Dean muttered with a smirk one night while she was riding him, when she pinned his arms over his head and told him to keep them there. She never expected how hot that would get her. Especially, she has to admit, when Cas says it – Lisa has never really gotten off on anyone’s voice or dirty talk, but she’s pretty sure she’d melt listening to Cas read the phone book.

“Good,” she says, combing her fingers through his hair. He leans into the touch the way a cat would and she lets him do it, his head leaning as if to follow her hand when she pulls it away. Dean watches them with rapt attention, eyes wide and lips parted as Lisa turns back to him. “Does that sound good to you?”

Silly question, since she’s never known Dean to be anything but ridiculously, _adorably_ enthusiastic about getting a dick in his ass. The grin that splits his face is bright and shameless. “Yes, ma’am,” he drawls, positively beaming when she nods her approval.

She leans down until she’s almost in his lap, his fists clenching with the desire to touch her, to slide his hands down her sides, to reach around and squeeze her ass and bring her in closer. But he knows he doesn’t have permission to touch yet, and she’s not giving it. “Now,” she says, her mouth less than an inch away from his, “the question is: how do I want you?”

To take things a step further, Lisa wraps her fingers in a loose circle around Dean’s half-hard cock. The barely-there contact makes his whole body shudder, his breath hitch, but his eyes never leave hers, even as she tightens her grip around the head and he strains to keep still. “Lis,” he whispers, tongue darting out to wet his lips, “please.”

_Putty._ Lisa kisses them both again and they kiss back a little more desperately than before. Finally, she takes her seat, pulling her legs beneath her and letting her robe fall open. Dean and Cas wait, but they won’t have to wait long.

“Alright,” she says, and they both perk up. “You can get started. When you’re ready, Dean, I want you on your stomach, and Cas, I want you to open him up nice and slow, okay?”

They each answer, “Yes, ma’am,” in turn, and then they practically pounce on each other. Dean leans against the pillows and pulls Cas on top of him, one hand tangling in his hair and the other digging blunt nails into the swell of his ass. Castiel tugs Dean’s bottom lip between his teeth, grinds their cocks together until they’re both making low, needy noises. 

While she watches them make out, Lisa brings her left hand to her breast and rubs light circles over her nipple, coaxing it to hardness. Arousal pools between her legs and she runs her other hand down her stomach, the feather-light touch making her shiver, but she stops just at the edge of her panties, runs her fingertips along the fabric. She doesn’t want to get ahead of herself, or of the boys, still rutting like horny teenagers on the bed.

“Castiel,” Lisa says. His back stiffens and he tears his mouth away from where he’s sucking on Dean’s throat. Cas sits back on his heels but Dean doesn’t let him break contact, trailing his hands over Castiel’s arms, shoulders, and chest, never letting him get out of reach. Lisa smiles and turns her attention back to an expectant Cas. “Why don’t you put that mouth of yours to good use?”

He gives her another devious ghost of a smile and a nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

Dean grins up at Cas like a Cheshire cat and pulls him in for a kiss before Cas starts his journey downward, leaving a wet trail on Dean’s skin.

It must be some kind of blasphemy for a once-pious angel of the lord to have such a talented mouth. Whether he has his lips wrapped around Dean’s cock or his face between Lisa’s thighs, he dives in like there’s nothing in the world he’d rather be doing. Lisa shifts in her chair, spreads her legs enough to rub herself through her panties, thinking about Castiel’s tongue while she watches it lick a long stripe up the underside of Dean’s cock. She thinks about that tongue worshipping her pussy, lips pursed to gently suck her clit, as Cas swallows Dean down.

Dean grips the headboard, obviously straining to contain the urge to thrust into Cas’ mouth, a steady stream of curses spilling from his own. Lisa’s view is downright obscene – from the muscles in Castiel’s throat to his stretched lips, spit-slick and pink, to the outline of Dean’s cock when Cas hollows his cheeks and sucks. Dean practically sobs and Lisa slips her hand into her panties.

She lets Cas work Dean almost to the edge, while she dips her fingers into her own wet heat. “That’s enough,” she says finally, and Cas has barely backed off before Dean is reaching for the nightstand drawer. He hands the lube to Cas, then he turns onto his stomach, knees bent, ass in the air, ready and waiting. Cas makes a sound like the wind has been knocked out of him and Lisa has to concur, dragging her fingertip across her clit hard enough to make her breath hitch.

Cas slicks his fingers and rubs the pad of his thumb around Dean’s rim before pushing one finger in to the knuckle. Dean turns to face Lisa, cheek pressed against the pillow, and he watches her, eyes fixated on her hand as she strokes her clit. Cas is watching too, keeping an eye on her while slowly working his first finger into Dean. She smiles at the attention – they’re not the only ones who can put on a show. She spreads her legs wider and arches her back, squeezes her breast with a slightly-exaggerated moan. She sucks her forefinger into her mouth seductively, then pulls it out and rubs wet circles around her nipple, biting her lip and watching the two of them through her lashes. Castiel’s hand has stopped moving. Lisa can’t help but laugh.

Dean rocks his hips to urge Cas back into action and buries his groan in the pillow when Cas adds a second finger. Pulling her panties off and tossing them aside, Lisa plants her feet flat on the floor and leans back in her chair, giving her a better angle as she massages her clit, slick fingers moving faster.

By the time Cas gets a third finger in, Dean is starting to get loud. Most of the noise is muffled, but a few times Dean turns to look at Cas over his shoulder, while he rocks his hips back, fucking himself on Cas’ fingers, and he’s unable to stifle a few _fucks_.

He’s probably not making enough noise to wake Ben down the hall, but Lisa doesn’t want to take any chances. When she was twelve, she walked in on her parents trying out a few tricks they learned from the _Kama Sutra_ , and she’d really rather spare her son that brand of childhood trauma if at all possible. She lets out a long, low _shhhhh_ , Dean bites his lip and nods.

Cas pulls his fingers out and slicks himself up, pausing to shove a pillow under Dean before lining his cock up with Dean’s hole. Dean grabs the hand Cas has planted on his hip, squeezes his wrist when Cas pushes the head in. Lisa’s fingers tease her own entrance, waiting for the right moment.

That moment comes when Cas bottoms out with a shuddered moan, Dean keens into the pillow, and Lisa slides a finger inside herself. She keeps it there while the boys take a moment to adjust, holding still as long as they do, until finally Cas starts to move in slow, shallow thrusts. Cas always looks like he’s so overwhelmed by all of this, eyes squeezed shut and head bowed. Dean isn’t much better, one hand still grasping Castiel’s and the other fisted in the sheets, though he manages (just barely) to keep those delicious gasps and groans at a respectable volume.

Lisa fucks herself to Cas’ rhythm, each push of her finger in time with each snap of his hips, quicker and surer now. Her other hand clings to the arm of the chair, her hips start to move of their own accord, and she has to struggle to keep her eyes open.

Her eyes do slip shut when she adds a second finger, and the sound she makes could almost put Dean to shame. From the bed, someone says her name, and she forces herself to open her eyes. She’s lost the rhythm, but that’s okay – so has Cas, draped over Dean’s back, fucking him in earnest, irregular thrusts. Dean is gone, skin flushed and coated in sweat, pupils blown wide when he looks at Lisa, eyes trained on her where her fingers disappear inside her pussy.

He licks his lips and Lisa almost loses it. Suddenly her fingers don’t feel like quite enough; she wants to climb into bed with them, prop herself up against the headboard and get Dean’s mouth on her, that sinful tongue licking into her. _God_ , she wants it, her hips grinding down harder just thinking about it. They’ve done it that way plenty of times before and it would be so easy to slip into place with them, drape her legs over Dean’s shoulders and let him go to town – he’d be _so_ good, he always is. Not tonight – definitely next time, but not tonight. She crooks her fingers, bites back a cry and fucks herself even faster, her own slick sounds matching the wet slap of skin on skin from the bed. She has to play by the rules of the game just as much as they do.

But the game isn’t going to last much longer. Lisa can feel her orgasm building, churning low in her groin, and the guys aren’t any better off. Cas is obviously holding back, riding the edge as close as he can without falling over, and Dean’s hips rock helplessly back and forth between Castiel’s cock and the pillow under him, his own cock painfully hard and neglected, yearning for friction.

A few more quick twists of her fingers and Lisa’s coming, biting down on her knuckles to keep quiet, hips rocking forward. She keeps moving until it becomes too much, until her limbs go limp and everything slowly comes back into focus. Cas makes a wrecked sound and Lisa’s brain rushes to catch up with her mouth, already trying to form the words but giving off nothing but a series of small, broken gasps. _“Co –,”_ she starts but it dies when she brushes her thumb across her oversensitive clit. “Come for me,” she breathes, finally, opening her eyes to see them. “Come for me.”

It doesn’t take much. Cas snakes one hand around to Dean’s cock and it only takes a few short tugs to make him come, spilling onto the sheets with a muffled shout. Cas is right behind him, eyes shut tight and mouth open in a silent cry. When he opens his eyes, for a split second Lisa swears they glow, gold-tinted light burning behind the blue, but he blinks it away, wound tight like he has to fight to keep his grace contained. Eventually, they both deflate and Cas pulls out, drapes himself across Dean’s back and rests his head between his shoulder blades. Dean doesn’t have the energy to move beyond wrapping his arms around the pillow, all but purring when Cas nuzzles against his neck.

Her heartbeat slowly resuming its normal rate, Lisa feels a silly, satisfied smile spread across her face. She feels _amazing_ , light and sated, but suddenly her boys are too far away. “Okay,” she says, working up the gumption to get to her feet. “Break.”

She makes her way to the bed on surprisingly steady legs. Cas rolls off of Dean and, always the first one to recover, gets to his knees and pulls Lisa in for a kiss. She climbs in next to them and Dean starts to kiss his way her up her stomach, pausing to pay special attention to her breasts. When he gets to her neck, she pulls away from Cas with a quick peck and turns to Dean, kisses him until they’re both gasping for air. Cas mouths along their jaws, nips Dean’s earlobe, and then it’s their turn, Lisa running her fingers through their equally mussed hair.

“So good,” she tells them and she loves how they both light up at the words. “So good for me.” Cas buries his face in the crook of her neck, cups her breasts in his large hands and kisses her throat; Dean brings her right hand to his mouth and sucks the fingers she had inside her, tongue lapping up every last drop of her slick left behind.

They fall into a heap on the bed, hands everywhere, trading lazy kisses until they can barely hold their eyes open. “We should clean up,” Lisa says as she attempts – in vain – to untangle herself from them.

“On it,” Dean says, wiggles his way out of their pile and pads off to the bathroom.

Lisa lies against Castiel’s chest, idly links their hands together and closes her eyes. “You’re incredible,” he says and she laughs.

“Yeah, I am.”

She opens her eyes and finds him watching her, the hand that’s not in hers coming up to comb through her hair. “Both of you,” he says, “you’re so…” He trails off and just shakes his head. It’s mind-boggling, really, to think that a millennia-old being who speaks every language ever spoken can’t find a word for what she and Dean do to him. But something in his eyes shifts and Lisa knows where this is going before he even opens his mouth. “I wish – ”

She sits up and presses her finger to his lips. “Don’t.”

Cas nods. Dean comes back with a warm, damp cloth.

Lisa knows, because she wishes too – so does Dean. They wish Cas could stay for good, that he could be with them for more than a day here, a few days there, or if they’re lucky, a week. No one knows when the war will end and none of them like to think that it might not be during Dean and Lisa’s lifetime. It’s not easy, but after enduring so much already, none of them can imagine life without each other. It’s worth the effort to make it work.

Dean presses the cloth tentatively into Castiel’s hand, not meeting his eyes. “Can you at least stay for breakfast?”

Lisa smiles at Cas meaningfully, hoping that _you’d better not say no_ translates somehow. She knows that he wants to stay more than anything, that the burden he’s trying to bear is pulling him away from where he’d rather be and that his absences from Heaven aren’t winning the war any sooner, but this time he needs to make an exception. Dean never asks. Sometimes he’ll skirt around it, gripe a little or make some half-assed joke, but usually he just lets Cas go when he says it’s time, resigning himself, as much as he hates it, to the fact that there will almost always be something separating them. But he never outright asks him to stay, and Lisa might have to break out the emergency stash of holy oil if Cas fails to comprehend the importance of this moment.

Fortunately, he doesn’t. He smiles back as Lisa, cups Dean’s chin and forces him to look at him. “Of course.”

They clean themselves up quickly. Lisa tosses the used cloth into the hamper in the bathroom while Dean and Cas adjust the sheets. Dean asks, “Should we do rock-paper-scissors for the middle?”

“Nope,” Lisa says and flops down onto the bed, crawls under the covers. “I’m taking the middle.”

Dean gives her a grin and a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Now get your asses in here.”

When she turns out the lamp, Cas curls against her back, wraps one arm around her waist as she wraps her own arms around Dean at her front. She sinks into their warmth and closes her eyes. Tomorrow Cas will leave again, who knows for how long this time, and Lisa and Dean will go to work as usual, like nothing’s different. They’ll wrap around each other in a bed that feels a bit too big, say a little prayer, and get up and do it all over again.

But tonight they’re home, the cards tucked back in the drawer, and there’s nowhere else they’d rather be.


End file.
